


Seismic Shifts

by Notabluemaia



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Dangerous terrain, M/M, Tourists, Travelogue, Wild animals, Yellowstone National Park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notabluemaia/pseuds/Notabluemaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean and Elijah seek answers in wide open spaces, but find them in closer encounters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seismic Shifts

  
Travels with Sean and Elijah:  
[Choose a hat for Elijah](http://www.yellowstonegifts.com/hats.html)  
[Their turn of the century bedroom at the Inn](http://www.yellowstone-notebook.com/Ofibdrm.jpg)  
[When Good Buffaloes Go Bad, or Yellowstone safety videos](http://www.nps.gov/yell/safetyvideos.htm)  
[Old Faithful area online tour](http://www.nps.gov/yell/tours/oldfaithful/index.htm)  
[Frank's Yellowstone Notebook - great pics, tours, postcards, history](http://www.yellowstone-notebook.com/index.html)  
[Old Faithful Inn](http://www.yellowstone-notebook.com/inn1.html)  
[Helluva first person encounter with 'the most dangerous park wildlife'](http://espn.go.com/outdoors/general/columns/sutton_keith/1299281.html)  
  
  
  
  
Elijah sank down upon the sun-bleached boardwalk and folded himself into a comfortable position, or at least as comfortable as possible in the heat. Almost a hundred unseasonable degrees, but mercifully dry, and sweat evaporated fast.  
  
 _Just have to drink enough water to keep sweating…_ He shrugged off his knapsack, dug for the water bottle, and unscrewed the cap. Late afternoon sunshine scorched his face as he tilted it to gulp several swallows, but at least there was a breeze.  
  
 _Too much of one, earlier._  
  
Their last hike, through an asphalt parking lot, over a bridge spanning a rushing, rocky river, and up a steep hill, took them to a spectacularly Technicolor expanse of steaming water and mud where a sudden gust of wind had lifted the clinging hair from his nape and his billed cap from his head, whisking it to float on teal water far beyond any hope of retrieval.  
  
He trailed the heels of his Converses through the pebbles, pressed the ball of his foot into the dirt; there wasn't enough tread left to make an imprint, even if the soil weren't so hard packed, but the scuffs raised little puffs of dust that settled on the rubberized toes. Amazing how dry the ground was around water that boiled and bubbled from incredible depths. How far would you normally have to dig to reach the source of all that heat? Not far at all, here; the earth's roiling core came right to the surface… The sheer wonder of it began again to strike his fancy as he rested. This trip had been a good idea. Intriguing surroundings and enough physical exercise to take his mind off the end of filming and the beginning of… whatever might be next.  
  
A shadow fell across him and he looked up. Sean shifted from foot to foot – heat and extra weight were a bad combination – before lowering himself to sit. He took the bottle Elijah held out, their hands brushing together, and drank deeply.  
  
"She said the ranger came by 'bout an hour ago." Sean nodded toward the woman he'd been talking to; in rugged khakis and boots, a blue bandana knotted loosely at her throat, she could have been a ranger herself and had been a font of information, more than Elijah had cared to hear as he had politely excused himself and stepped aside to sit at the edge of the boardwalk. He squinted and peered at Sean, amused by his animation.  
  
"Could blow any time," Sean continued. "She said that he said the signs are all there, the water level dropping in the first pool and rising in the farther one – said what else to look for but I didn't catch it. Here, let me look…" He thumbed through the small guidebook he'd consulted at every site and skimmed the entry quickly. "No, can't tell… But it's a good thirty feet if it does! That'd be something to see, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Hmm." Elijah frowned and lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the lowering sun's glare off sulfur bleached rocks. Sean's obvious enthusiasm wasn't quite contagious enough to infect him; his natural zeal for something new had worn to a nub after a long day's worth of stops at assorted small geysers, bubbling sink holes, steaming fumaroles. But a little longer wouldn't hurt. And if this one did erupt – well, hell, even if it didn't, Sean would enjoy watching the signs, and that would be enough.  
  
"Sure, Sean. That's what vacations are for." Elijah grinned and dropped his voice. "Taking time for whatever comes… or _blows_."  
  
"Like Old Faithful? Ninety feet, straight up."  
  
"Impressive. Not _exactly_ what I had in mind." Elijah smiled and shook his head. _Though faithfulness was sure part of it…_  
  
He propped his chin on his hand and prepared himself for a long wait. Old Faithful would be their next stop, if he was lucky. They'd stay over at the Inn's relative, if rustic, civilization. _A shower; a soft bed… and sex that'll put the geysers to shame._  
  
And some rest. He managed to conceal a yawn with a stretch; he wasn't bored, and wouldn't want Sean to think so, but it'd be easy to doze right here. He finally got out of New York late yesterday; made his connection at Salt Lake; flew commuter to an airport more like a resort and snagged a rental. Juggled drive-through coffee, directions, and a map by the overhead light, and to find their cabin, a tall-windowed house on rugged hills outside Bozeman. Dropping bags and clothes to the floor, he'd crawled naked between cool sheets and had awakened in the dark to kisses and soft words, his body rising hard to Sean's till they tumbled, sated, to sleep and an early dawn.  
  
Sleepily, he peered out from behind sunglasses as dark as he'd been able to find.  
  
This was the strangest land he'd ever seen, weirder than New Zealand's rugged, but dormant, Mount Doom. The overwhelming scale of the ancient sunken caldera crowded out human concerns with raw imperatives of size – and survival. How in the hell could Frodo and Sam have made it through live volcanic terrain; for that matter, made it through any of it, mountain to Moria to Mordor? There wasn't enough surface water to sustain life and there couldn't have been much subterranean water, either, or it would have boiled forth from the foundations of the earth. At least in the Mordor PJ had created onscreen. Sean would know if that was consistent with Tolkien's text, but he'd be damned if he'd ask him and risk the smugly fond 'read the book'. He knew the story; he'd lived and breathed Frodo's and Sam's for the most important years of his life, as true as myth, as real as _this_ … He closed his eyes and let worries drift upon the heated breeze.  
  
Sean shifted, laid his guidebook on his lap, riffled the pages, drummed his fingers on the binding. Elijah reached to take the book and laid his hand over Sean's to calm its restless fidgeting.  
  
"Relax. Vacation, sun, air? You know – fun?"  
  
"Sorry. You think the water level's gone down in that farther pool? I think maybe it has."  
  
"Hmm. Haven't really been watching it."  
  
"So what are you thinking?" There was the slightest note of worry in his voice.  
  
"Trying to remember what I read."  
  
"What?"  
  
Elijah scowled at Sean's skeptical grin; admittedly multiple carefully bookmarked tourist guides had lain untouched on his kitchen counter. Sean might be fanatical about preparations and precautions, but he himself was no slouch. He'd just rather google, read it fast, and move on to the next topic – hauling a guidebook around didn't do a thing for him. Hell, Sean probably had a first aid kit tucked in the spine.  
  
"I _did_ research it! On the net. But I really don't know shit about any of this. It's fucking incredible. Not like Mordor, it's too alive. Maybe the 'before' version.  
  
"Or 'after', healed. Wonder what the first people who discovered this told the folks back home?"  
  
"Are you kidding? The _first_ probably didn't even _make_ it home – too fucking dangerous."  
  
Sean snorted. "Could be. Boiling pools of poison to dissolve your bones, after they burn you to death; scalding mud beneath a crust so thin you'd break right through if you set foot on it…"  
  
"Hell, Sean, did you see that footprint next to the boardwalk a ways back? Looked like it broke—you don't think someone fell through?"  
  
"No! God, I hope not!" Sean shuddered. "Just the thought…"  
  
"Yeah… don't think about it." Elijah twined his fingers with Sean's, briefly, then let go – too public – to pick absently at his jeans. It was one thing to climb a volcanic mountain, rugged as it was, with a crew devoted to their safety, and with Sean, securely roped, holding him for dear life. He had draped completely trusting, heedless of the sharp rocks and steep drop that made Sean grip on his wrist and ankle almost painfully tight. The thought of trying to avoid the all-too-real hidden dangers here without ropes, roped off edges, guidebook, or protective boardwalks was sobering enough, and would be foolishly unconscionable.  
  
But there were all kinds of hidden dangers, and the possibilities they'd come here to think through in the clarity of wide open spaces could burn just as surely… Elijah frowned; his breath caught and he looked away.  
  
"Earth to Lijah?" Sean’s voice was soft. He’d caught frown and mood both, and his face showed his worry.  
  
"Sure. I'm here, Sean." Elijah turned back and managed a smile. It hurt; in fact, his whole face hurt.  
  
"Damn, Lij, your face – here, take my hat." Sean swept off his ball cap, set it on Elijah's head and pulled the brim down low. "We'd better go. Hell, look at your arms – roll down your sleeves!"  
  
"Too hot." Elijah scowled at his forearms. Bright pink, and his neck, too, by the feel when he turned his head. He tugged down the sleeves. Yup. That hurt, too. Sean was pink, but any burn would turn to a golden glow by morning; his was more likely to blister and peel. How in the hell had he forgotten sunscreen? At least he'd remembered to wear jeans and a long-sleeved tee. A white one, reflective, though it felt like he'd wrapped a blanket around himself. He scrambled up and dusted off the seat of his pants, then extended his hand to Sean and hauled him to his feet. They shared a wry grin and the last of the water as Elijah slipped the pack onto his shoulders; Sean tucked the empty bottle in a pocket and rummaged around in the depths, just in case.  
  
"Here. SPF 15, not strong enough, and not much of it... Can't believe we forgot… hell, Lij, we still need Makeup running after us… remember how they'd fret over a zit? Let alone you getting fried like this." He shook the bottle upside down, and squirted a noisy dollop into Elijah's palm, then his own as Elijah started rubbing it gingerly onto his face and the backs of his hands, the only parts of him still exposed. He envied Sean's baggy green short-sleeved tee and khaki shorts. Sandals, too. But he didn't look a bit cooler, and a sheen of sweat sparkled on his upper lip and the bared skin of his arms and legs. Shapely legs, blond furred, like the hair curling on his belly and downwards…  
  
"Hold still – I'll get your neck."  
  
"Thanks." Elijah bent forward as gentle fingers smoothed the lotion over the burn and beneath his collar. Sean touched some to the curve of his ears then wiped off the excess on his own forearms. "That's it. We're outta here. On to Old Faithful."  
  
They started walking briskly to the parking lot; their Explorer was bound to be hot as hell by now.  
  
"I want ice cream."  
  
"Eruptions are what, every hour or so?" Sean looked down, flipping through his guidebook; Elijah steered him past a flock of tourists. "Every sixty to ninety minutes, depending—"  
  
"I _need_ ice cream. Chocolate…"  
  
"Evening won't be so bad. It'll cool off at dusk when cold air spills off the mountains." Sean looked up from his book and glanced at Elijah as they crossed the parking lot. "Maybe a short walk first, then grab something to eat—"  
  
"Ice cream, first. Then, a shower. A _cold_ one—"  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"Yes. Cold. This is not the good kind of hot and bothered—"  
  
"Historic inn.'Turn of the century charm'. The _last_ century. Just a tub, probably down the hall—"  
  
"Oh. Well, fuck." Elijah sighed dramatically. "But if there's room for two… a _hot_ bath…"  
  
"With some discretion… We _could_ catch Old Faithful later..." Sean grinned and clicked open the locks as they separated, flinging open the doors to let the superheated air escape. Elijah shrugged off his pack, dropped it in the back, and set his hand on the passenger seat. Not too bad, but the driver's side had been in direct sun. Jeans were a definite advantage over shorts and bare legs on hot leather; he hesitated before he climbed in.  
  
"Want me to drive?"  
  
"Nah, I'd rather drive than ride, you know me."  
  
Elijah reached for the jacket he'd needed in morning's crispness when they'd started, and tossed it to Sean. Grimacing, Sean spread it over the seat to protect his thighs, climbed up and slid behind the wheel to start the engine, the better to have much needed air conditioning the sooner.  
  
"I sure didn't expect this heat up here, even in July." Elijah blotted sweat from his face onto his sleeve. Ouch. He decided not to look in the visor mirror.  
  
"Me either, and the Inn's not air conditioned."  
  
"All the more reason to get naked in that tub. After ice cream. Hmm. Maybe with it…" Elijah grinned as he wiped his hands, then reached back between the seats to rummage in the cooler on the rear floorboard. Cold water, not much ice left. Plastic bags of apples and oranges, chocolate bars, and extra sandwiches from the picnic packed that morning in the well-stocked cabin. He sat up and passed a bottle of water to Sean, then peeled an orange, dropped the skin into a napkin, and held out a segment. Their fingers brushed; citrus scent drifted between them. Elijah turned in his seat and leaned over the console to press a kiss to soft skin hot beneath the rasp of whiskers… to lips, cooled by the water, sweet and pungent with the tang of juice…  
  
"Sean…" Clove and orange and heated breath… lips opening around a shared sigh… Heat turned to hunger; Sean pulled him closer and he slipped his hand beneath green cotton, trailing over the curve of belly… damp, sweaty… downwards – and a car door slammed close by.  
  
"Fuck."  
  
"Soon… love…" Sean took Elijah's hand from his waistband and kissed his fingertips, licked each one, his mouth hot now as his tongue swirled over the bitten cuticles, the whorled pads. "Soon…"  
  
"Ice cream _and_ you – can't wait!" Elijah sighed, touched his fingers to Sean's cheek, and sank back in his seat to catch his breath. "Sean, I''m glad we came here. It's amazing."  
  
"Like Mordor, before Sauron, maybe. Our adventure, without their danger…"  
  
"Our love, without…" _Their parting_ was more than Elijah dared say. He put down his window as Sean pulled out onto the two lane highway. Fir trees and green expanses of tall grass meadows dotted with blue-tinged lakes, mountains gray in the distance. Occasionally there were cars pulled off the road; they slowed to spot the animals that had been sighted. A herd of bison, clustered specks on a far hillside. A coyote, weaving in and out of late afternoon shadows in a grove near the road. A pair of eagles, their nest a tangle of sticks high in a bare tree, were the first either of them had seen since Eagles had acquired a whole new meaning, besides the usual connotations of national pride.  
  
"The Eagles are coming…" Sean's voice was so soft that Elijah could hardly hear it, but he knew and he remembered, and he squeezed his hand tightly in response. "Tolkien said fantasy could make you see the familiar in new ways. Keeps sneaking up on me after being in Middle-earth all that time."  
  
"I don't think we'll ever really leave it, Sean. It brought us together. Talk about seeing things in new ways…"  
  
"More truth, through fantasy…" Elijah laid his head back and closed his eyes. The motion of the car and the 'whoosh' of the a/c were soothing, the scenery spectacular but more of the same; it wouldn't hurt to rest. An early morning, a day full of wonders… smoking water, herds of bison… buffalo… a buffalo talking to him, offering ancient wisdom, face to face…  
  
Slipping free from the shoulder harness, Elijah slumped sideways, his head resting on one arm outstretched across the console. A larger man – or Sean himself, now - couldn't have folded in the seat like that, not comfortably. If _anyone_ could be comfortable wadded up like that… Sean considered waking him, but Elijah had cultivated an ability to sleep anywhere, his slight frame so supple that he seldom felt stiff. And at the memory of how very supple he was and had been the night before, parts of Sean felt stiff enough for both of them. He let Elijah rest in dreams, and concentrated on driving even more carefully than usual; the seatbelt and shoulder harness couldn't be efficient in that position. But he pulled off the sweat-soaked ball cap and tossed it to the floorboards on Elijah's side, pushing back damp hair from his brow and stroking gently for a moment before laying his hand firmly back on the wheel.  
  
The miles rolled by. Not much traffic, a lot more wildlife. More buffalo. A good ton of bad news for anyone who mistook slow lumbering for a sweet temper. Arguably, the most dangerous animals in the park. Those suckers could _move_ , outrun a man, easy, and if they charged, they connected, and could kill. Had killed. Sean bit back the _too much information_ he'd read, determined to enjoy their wild magnificence. From a safe distance… and a fast moving vehicle, closing in on the welcome civilization of the Inn.  
  
He thought the change in sound from the roar of highway noise to the slow crunch of gravel in the parking lot would awaken Elijah, but he didn't stir.  
  
"Elijah?" Sean stopped the car, shifted into 'park', and tangled his fingers through Elijah's hair. "Lij, we're here."  
  
Elijah sat bolt upright, as instantly awake from deep slumber as after catnaps on set; he adjusted his sunglasses and looked about. Another parking lot with scrubby bushes edging it, and on the other side, a glimpse through trees of a large wooden building.  
  
"Already? Sorry to leave you all the driving."  
  
"No problem. But you missed the bison right by the road. Damn fool tourists, way too close, taking pics. They've killed people!"  
  
"The tourists?"  
  
Sean gave him a look. " _Bisons_. Killed. People."  
  
"Sounds like _revenge_ to me. For being hunted almost to extinction."  
  
"Maybe. I don't think anyone got hurt, though. There was a ranger pulling up as we passed."  
  
"That's good." Elijah yawned. "Hey, I _dreamed_ about a buffalo. Ancient wisdom, shamans - like the one in _Flyer_. Of course, that was stuffed…" He stretched, wincing as soft cotton brushed over tender skin. "So, this is it?"  
  
"Old Faithful Inn, opened 1904; still going strong despite 'quakes and forest fires! Seven story lobby built of lodge pole pines from the park – they wouldn' t let you do that now - and a natural stone fireplace. The geyser's a short walk that walk that way," he gestured, 'hiking trails everywhere and a trailhead right there."  
  
"Yeah, more boardwalks, not just for wusses. The thought of trying to make your way across that – well, ewww!"  
  
"Heat of the parking lot's more'n enough. Hey, don't forget your cap – down there." Sean turned off the engine, stopping the whoosh of cold air; the glare of sunshine fell hot on the dash. "Okay, here goes. Take bags, get the cooler later?"  
  
"It's too melted. I can get both our bags, you take the cooler, saves us a trip." Elijah hopped down and already had the rear hatch lifted, swinging out their canvas bags as Sean leaned into the back seat for the cooler. He called, "Sandwiches'll keep if we add ice. And I, for one, plan to work up an appetite."  
  
"I already have, m'dear!" Sean shoved the door shut with his hip and clicked the remote to lock up.  
  
The Inn was massive, with dark brown walls, a steeply pitched, shingled roof, wrought iron trim – natural materials and shapes that echoed the rugged landscape, and the Adirondack resorts with which its early visitors from the East would have been familiar. The namesake geyser wasn't in sight; Sean remembered that it was on the other side of the building; the architect had positioned the entrance so that arriving carriages would face the geyser – hell of a welcome if it were timed right. The balcony at the front extended well beyond the roof's bottom edge, providing a shady overhang with seating above, supported by pillars of stacked logs.  
  
They stood for a moment in the shade to their eyes adjust; Elijah set down the bags to stow their sunglasses in an outside pocket on his knapsack, as Sean shifted to get a better grip on the cooler. The double wide main doors, painted red and mounted with hand wrought hardware, were flanked by large windows, behind which they could glimpse inviting Mission style rocking chairs and an expansive, dark lobby. Farther down the sunlit side of the building, the windows were lined with shelves – the inevitable touristy gift shop, and it looked like a well-stocked one, too.  
.  
"So, you register, or me?"  
  
"Reservation's on my card. Maybe you can find that ice cream."  
  
"If it's findable, believe me, I'll find it."  
  
Elijah pulled open one of the heavy doors for Sean to go first; cold air rushed out. At least the lobby was air conditioned.  
  
"Where there's a gift shop, there's bound to be– Oh!"  
  
"Now there's an eye opener, and no mistake!"  
  
Before them stretched rows of pillars, wood rather than Khazad-dum's hewn stone. Above, loomed seven stories of tree house and an expanse of open space surrounded by balconies of raw lodge pole pine, their log railings and steps polished by decades of hands and feet to a golden hue, glowing amid the dark browns and black of aged wood. Gray stones built a fireplace, huge even in this enormous space; dozens of rocking chairs were lined before it and clustered upon woven rugs of muted colors.  
  
"The Wild West version of Lorien. That's one helluva flet up there." Elijah gestured to an apparently inaccessible landing high in the rafters. He leaned to see, his head thrown back, his throat a white curve against all the dark wood.  
  
"Mm, hmm. Beautiful…"  
  
Elijah glanced at him and smiled, shaking his head. "Okay, Sean. Get a room, and I'll stare at you!" He smoothed one hand over Sean's shoulder for a discreet caress, leaned close, and whispered, "And do a lot more than that…"  
  
"I'm counting on it." Sean took his place in the short line at the check-in desk, set the cooler at his feet. Elijah deposited their bags next to it and gave him a questioning look.  
  
"I've got it. Go on. I want… hmm. Mint chip. Cup's fine, not a cone – this could take a while."  
  
"You got it. Don't know where I'll be—"  
  
"I'll find you, Lij. Wherever you are."  
  
"I count on that." Elijah's voice was soft. He turned on his heel, winked at Sean over his shoulder, and strode off.  
  
"Can I help you, sir?" The desk clerk smiled brightly.  
  
Check-in was quick and efficient. To Sean's relief, all the rooms were non-smoking. Theirs was one of the few original rooms with a private bath: tub, no shower. He arranged for the cooler to be re-iced and re-stocked (as lavishly as possible) from the kitchen and gift shop and taken to their room – an extravagance, but Elijah would be delighted with the substitute for non-existent room service. Adaptable he was, but roughing it wasn't his favorite pastime, and he liked food almost as much as a hobbit.  
  
"Is there someplace to get ice cream?" Sean had a vague memory that there was an old time fountain.  
  
"Yes, sir – over there, t'other side of the fireplace. The Bear Paw. Huckleberry's their specialty."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
There it was, and there was Elijah, still far back in a long line, waiting patiently, the cord of his iPod looped from ears to pocket. Music, earphones, out of the heat and sun – he was happily off in his own world, that private place he went during interminable Feet and futzing and set-up shots. Serenity seemed to flow from deep within, and spill to those around him; he was the calm center around which Sean's nervous energy spun, and Sean could not take his eyes off him.  
  
To anyone else, though – given his uncanny ability to blend into a scene – he was just another guy in jeans and a tee, unless he looked up and caught someone's eye; the reaction to blue and beauty was usually a startled double take, even if he wasn't recognized. At a casual glance Elijah might even look like a kid, though he'd filled out in all the right places these last years. But still… so young…  
  
He sighed and looked away before the intensity of his gaze either attracted attention to Elijah, or fell upon him so tenderly that he must feel its caress and look up to catch him staring… again. He shook his head and started towards him – but that line was going to take a while, and Elijah was doing just fine holding a place. He might as well take their bags to the room. Check it out, make sure it was aired. Set out soothing lotion close at hand, and the sage and basil candles that Elijah somehow always remembered to pack ( _make a strange room at least_ smell _like home_ ). Hmm, should they even light them in this old wooden structure? Well, the ever present safety hobbit in him could decide when he saw the room.  
  
He turned the key in its wrought iron lock, pushed open the wide-planked door, and stepped back in time.  
  
Log walls with screened windows, flimsy white curtains lifted by a hot breeze. Rush seated rockers; yellow flowers in a blue pitcher; rag rugs scattered over uneven floorboards. And best: a wide, wide bed – its simple four poster frame softened by downy pillows and a cotton skirt, its quilt-covered mattress high – high enough… Sean placed his hands palm down upon the coverlet, closed his eyes, and rested his weight forward, imagining his Elijah spread and sprawled across white sheets, one arm thrown back to grasp the rail of the head board, the other outflung, hand clenching the sheet… stretched and writhing beneath him, around him… pushing back to every deep slow stroke within and upon him till in their loving they became one…  
  
Sean groaned and straightened, pulling back from the delicious pressure of the bed to adjust the heavy ache of instantly rock hard flesh. Geysers and dinner could definitely wait. He needed Elijah. Soon. Now. _Forever…_  
  
Quickly he unzipped his bag and took out toiletries, lotion and lube – they'd pick up aloe for Elijah's burn in the gift shop. Candles, somewhere in Elijah's bag, could wait till dark, even if he could not. Take a sec to freshen up. A door to the left opened upon a bathroom, updated only enough for convenience, and the porcelain bathtub _was_ generous enough for two, on black metal claws; Elijah could have both his bath and Sean. He smiled and splashed cold water on his face and neck, combed his fingers through his hair, and grabbed a fresh towel, then tucked everything they'd need under the closest pillow.  
  
He pulled the door closed behind him and hurried back to the lobby. The line had moved faster than he had expected and Elijah was nowhere to be seen. He'd probably stepped out for one of his cloves; he'd be back, soon as he finished. But the gift shop was right here; might as well save them some time. He oriented himself quickly. Stuffed animals, mugs, pressed flowers, posters… pharmacy shelves – yes, they had aloe. And over there, next to appliquéd, embroidered, stenciled and stamped tees and sweats, were hats. He held up two for consideration: the first, canvas with a black band, park logo, embroidered bear, and a full brim; more sun protection and sage was a good color. But the slate blue baseball style had a wider bill and the buffalo patch was less 'in your face'. What the hell – take both, let Elijah choose, and he'd wear the other. Or they'd share. They almost lived at each other's place, anyway. Wasn't like either of them was going to pack up and leave any time soon… maybe never… if only they could manage to take one more step, farther than they'd ever been before…  
  
A big step, that, and here he couldn't even make up his mind about a _hat._ He shook his head, peered at each one to make sure the stitching was smooth. Hats in hand, he walked toward the check-out counter, past the crammed window shelves. Rocks and small plastic animals – nature's action figures. The die-cast replicas of Yellowstone's old yellow sightseeing buses were nicely detailed and satisfyingly heavy in his hand. Meeting Elijah had been much like being hit by a bus, and those little wheels would tickle as he rolled it over his belly… his amusement would bubble to a giggle—  
  
Sean smiled and looked up, and there outside, past the shelves and across the driveway, was Elijah, leaning against a log pillar. His upper face was shadowed by the brim of Sean's ball cap - and if he took one more slow lick at his cone like that...  
  
Sean let his gaze caress Elijah's compact form from hat down to canvas sneakers: sleeves pushed up past sturdy forearms, tee draped loosely as he slouched, faded jeans cupping the curve of his ass… By his feet, a brown bag; ice cream, probably, and insulated, he hoped, and behind him, a couple of kids were conferring – fans from the gamer world, based on their tees. One, gawky and tall, was clutching a camera as they approached, clearly hoping for a photo. They'd gone all day without anyone recognizing him, and that was better than it could have been. Sean set his purchases on the counter and watched long enough to see Elijah notice them and smile, kind as always. But with luck, there wouldn't be any more fans, and he could slip away easily, and soon...  
  
"$60.96. You want a box for the bus?" The clerk had already bagged the hats and lotion.  
  
Sean pulled his attention back to business and handed her his card. "Do I?"  
  
"Yeah, they're kinda cute, printed like little buses."  
  
"Sure. Thanks."  
  
She bent to search under the counter.  
  
"Hey, Rachel, would you look—"  
  
"Well, I'll be damned—"  
  
Sean glanced towards the windows where a man was gesturing to his companion, presumably Rachel. A crowd was gathering outside. Elijah? Damn, that'd be another twenty minutes, if they were lucky. No, he could see him still talking to the kids, nowhere near the center of the throng.  
  
"It's huge!"  
  
What? What was huge? The geyser? Had it erupted? That didn't seem likely. Elijah would have turned eagerly to see. Instead, he stood posed for a picture with the smaller of the kids, one hand resting lightly upon his shoulder. But as Sean watched, he looked away from the camera towards the crowd milling by the gift shop windows and frowned.  
  
"Didn't know they'd come so close—"  
  
They? _They?_ There wasn't a single _they_ in the park that he wanted close to Elijah. Not coyote, snake, or tick – not even a jack rabbit.  
  
"Excuse me, that's okay – no box, just let me sign—" He scribbled his name and thrust his card into his wallet. Grabbing the bag, he started out the door, excited voices following him.  
  
"Did it get stuck in the ramp?"  
  
"It's so _big_ – so fuzzy—"  
  
"Seems confused—"  
  
"Holy shit – look!"  
  
"Sonovabitch jumped straight up!"  
  
"Oh God, no!"  
  
The shrieks came from behind as Sean sprinted through the lobby, from ahead as he burst outside through the double doors, worming past people scrambling, shoving to get inside. He couldn't see over the crowd, but there were advantages to being small and stocky and he could burrow through the panicked press, to see—  
  
It was huge, bigger by far than they looked from inside an SUV, and confused wasn't the half of it. Enraged, more like it, and swinging its massive wooly head from side to side – desperate to escape from the area where it had been trapped – how in the hell had that happened? – with way too many people between it and wide open spaces.  
  
 _If they charge, they do make contact…_  
  
Where was he? Not where last seen—  
  
 _Elijah?  
  
If they charge…_  
  
There, obscured by the crowd – and by more damn fools running up, cameras pointed – the top of a familiar ball cap, then a shoulder and neck he'd know anywhere. He was pushing the smaller kid behind the pillar, speaking urgently, raising his hand in a universal gesture to 'stay' – and then, he was turning, moving from safety towards – Sean frowned, shoved his way forward, and saw.  
  
Camera kid, separated by the commotion from his companion, was advancing towards the buffalo, shooting like he had all the time and not a care in the world. Hell, the kid looked positively gleeful – and he was about thirty seconds from getting drop kicked by bull horns across the parking lot. And Elijah, his expression grim, heedless of the danger and seemingly the only adult with a clue, was about ten feet from being gored right along with him.  
  
Red rage rose in Sean's breast: at the callow recklessness of the kid, the chaos of the crowd – and that goddamned buffalo that was putting his Elijah in danger. Too far, too many people between. Not a chance he'd be able to reach either of them in time.  
  
Sean charged, elbowing his way towards the tower of horn and hide* that threatened his Elijah – _not yet fallen, please don't let him fall_ – and broke through to a clear view of the bull bison, infuriated by confusion and cameras and people too close. The damned thing actually pawed the ground and Sean thought absurdly of toreadors, epaulets sparkling in sunshine and satin capes swirling, the spectators roaring for a fight and a kill.  
  
"Lij! Over here!"  
  
The buffalo snorted, a feral roar resonating through that huge head. But Sean's shout had done what he could not. The bull was distracted from the annoyance of a gawky kid just long enough, turned towards the sound – and Elijah lunged, grabbed the kid's shoulder, spun him around and yanked him back into the crowd.  
  
The beast lowered his head and charged – straight through the opening where seconds before a kid with a camera had been the main obstacle to freedom. If he hadn't been so frightened for Elijah, Sean would have laughed, or maybe cheered. That kid might have escaped the fury of the buffalo, but by what Sean had seen in Elijah's face, he was likely to hear a few clipped choice words about self-preservation, common sense, and standing by your friends.  
  
It was over. Sean loosened the death grip on his plastic bag, took a deep breath and just stood, a small island around which the crowd broke and flowed. Amazing how fast a crowd could clear when they weren't panicked and fear no longer held them together. Amazing how confusing things seemed when a bad sunburn was all you had to worry about, and how crystal clear they had become in the seconds when you thought you would lose – _everything_. He closed his eyes in thanksgiving for what had happened, and even more for what had not.  
  
 _'No onslaught more fierce was ever seen…'*_  
  
Like Sam, he would have done anything, given his all, for his Elijah. His lover, his friend, his own, _his_ mate…  
  
"Sean?" A hand fell gently upon his shoulder and he opened his eyes to blue, concerned, and tender. There was a tremble in the warm weight of Elijah's touch, but he did not look afraid. He leaned his brow to Sean's, his breath fast and cooling upon Sean's face. Their hands were hot as they twined their fingers together, sweat making bare flesh slippery as Elijah squeezed.  
  
"Lij—"  
  
"I know. Had to."  
  
"Can't let you out of my sight, can I?"  
  
"Nope. Not for a minute. So… you got us that room?"  
  
"Of course. Just stick with me... _Elijah_ …?"  
  
"Yes, Sean. I will."  
  
"Always?"  
  
" _Always_."  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _* Then he charged. No onslaught more fierce was ever seen in the savage world of beasts, where some desperate small creature armed with little teeth, alone, will spring upon a tower of horn and hide that stands above its fallen mate._ 'The Choices of Master Samwise', _The Two Towers_ , by J.R.R. Tolkien  
  
  



End file.
